Breathing the Light

Here where I live, it seldom snows. Sometimes tiny flakes fall from the sky unexpectedly, only to disappear just as quickly, leaving no trace.  Just an old photo I saw this morning was enough to make the memory of a real winter come alive. This view recalled snowy stretches shimmering gently in the January sun, footprints left by the crows, and the silence that accompanies the infinite whiteness, the moments I long for . . . 
 
It was a time of long walks and small joys. Also today, I celebrate this ritual from the past, I lightly follow a familiar path, feeling a hint of spring.  It is like a different land of small vegetable patches covered at present with the remains of last year's harvest, fruit trees, and a pergola where vines grow whenever the weather is mild. And a pond with redfish. Nature is never in a hurry. Even the raindrops slowly fall from the last leaves. Here and now: the moment I am living. 
 
still winter
a lonely chirping
colors the day